


Street Spirit

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brothers, Cage Fights, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Clint's family, F/M, Fights, Forced Prostitution, Gen, High School, Hurt Tony, Implied Sexual Content, Little Sisters, M/M, New York City, Original Character(s), Orphans, Poverty, Promiscuity, Protective Avengers, Protective Steve, Racebending, Racism, Racist Language, Sexual Violence, Siblings, Smoking, Substance Abuse, Teenage Tony, Teenagers, Tony Feels, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric, Underage Drug Use, Underage Prostitution, Underage Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:20:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4512975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Maria didn't marry Howard, Tony still ends up with dead parents and a genius but this time it's different-- he's a mixed race teenager living in New York with two siblings, forced by a sadistic Obadiah (who is manipulative in all universes) into degrading acts and living--or surviving--on the very edge. </p>
<p>It takes tripping into Steve's doorway after one particularly harsh night for Tony to realise that maybe falling into the Avengers' world is the only thing that will save him and his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags for warnings. Enjoy!

_Rows of houses, all bearing down on me_   
_I can feel their blue hands touching me_   
_All these things into position_   
_All these things we'll one day swallow whole_   
_And fade out again and fade out_

Ario's laugh is dark and derisive. He's drunk, and stinks of it, and sways like it, and has a half empty bottle in his hand that tells all the rest of it. Little Jemina is a blanketed lump on the couch behind and Tony hopes she doesn't wake up. Ario says, "And I'm here, fucked out of my mind, and you come stumbling it at midnight, just plain _fucked—_ "

He gets harsh when he's drunk but Tony has a thick skin. "Sure," he says carelessly, but in a whisper, so Jemina doesn't hear, dodging his brother for the half lit kitchen and running the tap to fill up one of the cups stacked dangerously on the side.

"You're just a fucking kid, none of this is _fair._ "

Tony downs his water and refills his cup. Jemina murmurs and rolls over, almost falling off the couch, so he goes to her and scoops her up—holding her against the side of his chest without bruises—and darts to their room, placing her on the far bed out of the three. Ario follows him, stumbling, and insists—"You don't think this is fair, do you? It's fucked up? Isn't it?"

He tucks Jemina in. Exits. Ario follows again and he closes the door.

Says, "It's not like I didn't have a choice," and regrets it instantly.

"Jesus Christ, you're so fucked up," Ario scowls, mumbling. He swigs the bottle. Tony imagines pouring down the sink, and wonders if it would leave behind burn marks because from the smell of it that alcohol is so strong it might as well be acidic. "I hate Stane. I fucking hate all of them. And I hate Mom, and Dad, and all the other useless fucking adults that put us here—"

"At least we're together—" Tony points out—he regrets it again, instantly, but this time for speaking because when Ario's drunk you shouldn't talk to him at all.

But Ario sighs, sinks down. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, there's that."

He stumbles up and grabs his keys and leaves. Tony changes and turns off the lights and spares five minutes looking for spare painkillers then pads into the next room and falls asleep next to Jemina.

**0**

Jemina wakes up and demands breakfast. Ario is hung-over and Tony is charitable. He whisks an omelette while Ario sips coffee and groans and Jemina colours in her homework, with a fistful of stubby crayons.

The gas shuts off at seven and he can't cook the omelette. He scowls at Ario, "We forgot to pay gas bills _again_?"

"Stane forgot," Ario reminds. "I'll catch him up later."

"No, I will," Tony argues. 'Catching up' with Stane for Tony means extra clients and for Ario means a beating.

Ario stares him down and is smouldering. "You can patch me up," he promises, then grabs his keys and leaves for work.

"Do you like it?" Jemina asks, holding up her paper of a multicoloured fish. "I'm entering a competition."

"Yeah, it's awesome," Tony praises. He pauses in front of a cupboard. "Honey nut or wheat flakes?"

"Honey nut," Jemina says absently, bending her head again.

The honey nut is finished. "I _hate_ wheat flakes," Jemina says vehemently. Nothing else in the kitchen is edible so Tony has to send her to school hungry.

**0**

School for him is boring as fuck. He sits at the back in classes and doodles equations while teachers ramble on about subjects that he already knows about from books in second grade. Two girls in front make eyes, but he can't remember their names and he feels too bad about that to approach them.

At lunch he sits with Pepper on the bleachers. She gives him a chocolate bar and half a cheese roll, which he scarfs like he's starving. "I tried to make an omelette this morning," he explains, inhaling the cheese roll.

"What happened?" she asks, amused.

"It burned," Tony scowls. "The smoke alarm was set off. My mom said I was an idiot."

"You are," she giggled, and Tony grins at the achievement of having made Pepper Potts giggle. "I don't understand how someone can be so smart but so stupid at the same time."

"Whatever," he says, rolling his eyes and pretending to be hurt.

Anna Marie is a policeman's daughter and waltzes up to them in high heels and a short skirt. She's white and blonde and has blue highlights that she curls around her fingers. "I'll meet you in the closet," she winks at Tony, and smiles hello at Pepper, and walks away.

"Seriously?" Pepper frowns. "Don't be a slut, Tony."

Which is harsh in all the ways Pepper isn't and Tony is hurt, this time. He bites it down, turns away, puts his legs up and tilts his head backwards like he's following the trail of a plane. "Why not?" he smirks, then runs to join Anna Marie.

**0**

Ario comes home with a black eye and three broken ribs, but the gas is back on.

**0**

That night he's tied by the wrists and by the feet and he's trying to find someplace to hide in his own mind where he won't wake up. It's hard though, because this man is old and has hate in the clench of his jaw and likes carving lines that bleed scarlet and set like bruises, spilling green and black and brown. It's hard as well trying not to scream. He doesn't quite manage it and the man clips him across the jaw for alerting the neighbours—Tony chokes on blood—then gags him with rope and old fabric.

He jerks every time the whip comes down and doesn't get used to the pain.

It gets worse when the man starts chanting, "Nigger, nigger, nigger," because neither Tony nor Ario could ever stand racists and they'd be swinging in a second but here is Tony, tied and helpless. It's the helplessness that gets to him but he doesn't cry at all as the whip slams down.

"Half caste son-of-a-bitch," the man chants, beating the whip down and down and down. "Fucking weakling nigger! How do you like that? Huh? _How do you like that_?"

Tony suddenly inexplicably imagines Jemina is in his place and throws up all inside the gag.

**0**

But the man doesn't pay him after, and Tony's supposed to get a cut. After he's untied and dressed and definitely not getting his money he rages. "Fuck you! Give me my motherfucking money or I'll rip out your throat!"

Ario's better with the threats. Anything, really, would be better than Tony's threats which are nothing but lines stolen from movies with expletives littered before or after every word; but he can put the rage behind it, the clenched fists, the bloody scowl.

The man smirks and shoves him, just lightly, but it makes contact with all the collective whip wounds and Tony collapses inwards completely silent, falls to his knees and stays there to breathe.

"Like I thought," says the man, his shirt still bloody, infuriatingly. "You're weak. Didn't I say?"

He hauls Tony up by the back of his shirt and throws him bodily out of the apartment. Tony braces himself against the wall, flinching only barely at the slam of the door, and splutters angrily, "Fuck you! I'll get you for this, bastard!"

He hauls himself up and staggers to slam at the door. "I'm coming back!" he says, and kicks at it before he walks on. "You better have my money!"

And there's a blond watching from the doorway of the next apartment over, a muscled man in slacks with bandages on his knuckles and a chiselled straight lined face. Tony says before he thinks the better of it, "What the fuck are you staring at?" and then the blood loss gets to him and he trips on his own feet and falls against the wall.

He slides down. He hates himself.

"Hey, hey kid," the man says, hurriedly leaping forwards with his hands outstretched. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," says Tony, without much bite.

"Should I take you to the hospital? Why are you bleeding?"

"Fell over," says Tony, curls into himself. "Fuck off. _Fuck off._ "

He needs to phone Ario to pick him up. Ario will be angry because Tony's interrupting his college class but then he'll just be mad at the man who did it, once he sees Tony's blood, and he'll get drunk again.

The man hesitates for a moment in front of him and then disappears into his apartment. Tony is glad and reaches for his phone when the man comes back with a bottle of water and handful of pills.

"What're those?" Tony scowls, eyeing the pills.

"Painkillers."

 Tony takes the water, but not the pills. He smells the water before he drinks it.

"Thanks," he says, grudgingly.

"What did my neighbour owe you money for?"

"None of your business."

The lines burn like brands under his shirt and on his hips.

The man hesitates again. "I'm Steve. I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't give it," Tony returns, but, "Tony."

"How old are you, kid?"

"Old enough not be a kid," Tony lies, finishes the water. He tries to get up. Steve helps him to a stand and he reels away indignantly. " _Don't_ touch me, and I don't need help."

"Look," says Steve, and steps back. "I can't leave a kid bleeding outside my door. Can you come in? I'll get you some food, patch you up."

 Tony hesitates and reels and remembers how shitty it is when Ario gets drunk. And he's hungry, because he's only had Pepper's cheese roll to eat today. And Jemina will be hungry, and demanding dinner after she gets back from her after school club, and he can sneak her whatever food Steve gives.

"Alright," he concedes, and steps into the apartment. There are boxes stacked up everywhere—he collapses into a couch and asks, "Moving in?"

"Moving out," corrects Steve, and picks up a fold of glossy papers. "I haven't got any food, it's all at my new place. Pizza or Chinese?"

 Tony wrinkles his nose. "Pizza."

Steve dials the number, pulls the phone up to his ear—"Toppings?"

Jemina loves pepperoni. "Pepperoni."

He takes the opportunity to text Ario— _gonna be late. U pick up Jemina?_

The reply comes a second later— _Already got her. We're at home, hurry up._

He puts the phone away. Steve switches the TV on. It's a rerun of Big Bang Theory and they watch it listlessly, before Steve turns and says, "Do you really not know who I am?"

 Tony frowns. "Should I know?"

"No," Steve laughs, and repeats quieter, "No."

 Tony is silent.

"You in trouble, kid?" Steve asks.

"I'm not a kid."

"Sure."

"It's none of your business."

"Well when you're bleeding outside my door, it kind of is—"

 Tony scowls and gets up as if he's about to leave, which he isn't, but Steve says, "No, I'm sorry, don't go."

It's a moment of silence. "What's your deal, then?" Tony asks. "Why're you living alone in a nice apartment like this? You at college?"

"No, not at college."

"What do you do?"

Steve hesitates. "I was in the army."

"Oh," says Tony. He doesn't like the army. He's not particularly into politics, but Ario is, and fiercely, and he's told Tony enough that Tony doesn't like the army. "What do you do now?"

"I work for—the government."

"Oh," says Tony, again. He doesn't like the government even more. Racist bastards, Ario would say if he was here. Look at their track record, all the countries they've destroyed, and even how they built America on mass graves. Look at what they do to us. Look at what they're doing abroad, as if they own the world, as if they have any rights to other people at all.

"Are you at school?" Steve asks.

 Tony hesitates but he knows he can't pass for over eighteen. "Yeah."

"What school do you go to?"

 Tony is absorbed in the television.

"Alright," says Steve quietly, like Tony wasn't supposed to hear that. "Your parents around?"

"Sure they're around," Tony says, angrily.

"Do they know you're out this late?"

"It's not that late," Tony defends, but he doesn't know what time it is. He sneaks a look at his phone and winces—11:29.

Steve watches him with those blue eyes. He _does_ look familiar, Tony realises, and asks, "Are you a politician or something?"

"Sure," Steve says. He's lying, but Tony can't be bothered to figure out the truth.

The pizza comes.

 Tony inhales two slices straight away—he's doing that a lot recently, inhaling food—before feeling guilty because Jemina probably hasn't had dinner yet and he should be getting it to her. Steve's ordered a whole pizza for himself and Tony watches incredulously as he chews his way through it. "I have a high metabolism," Steve defends. "I can eat this and half of that pepperoni pizza, easy." Then he reconsiders, looking at Tony closely, "Or you could take the rest of the pizza home."

"Yeah, alright," Tony says, glad that Steve's made it feel like it wasn't his idea.

Guilt makes him save the rest for Jemina, and Ario too, probably—who has a tendency to starve himself when he goes on his long depressed moods of _we're so poor it's all my fault_ —and he curls up on the couch and tries to ignore the pain as Steve finishes the pizza and the third straight episode of Big Bang Theory comes on.

Steve says, "You sure I can't at least look at your wounds?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"What happened?"

 Tony tries to remember if he provided any explanation before. "I fell," he says. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Was it something to do with my neighbour? Why you were shouting at him for your money?"

"No," Tony scowls ferociously. "You ask a lot of questions."

Steve shrugs. "My friends say I care too much."

"You do," Tony agrees, but it got him pizza so he's not too angry about it.

Steve sighs. "Want something to drink?"

"Sure," Tony says. "A beer's fine."

Steve almost gets up to get it then realises and half turns for a smirk. "Nice try. Coke or orange juice?"

"Juice? What am I, a toddler?"

"I have milk, as well."

"Coke."

Steve tosses him a coke and opens himself a beer. Tony opens the can, but it froths all over him and he sighs and holds it dripping away from him. "Oops," he says morosely. "That was my last clean shirt."

"It wasn't very clean," Steve says as he looks for a towel.

"It was clean before I got blood on it," Tony sighs. "Guess I'm skipping school tomorrow."

"It was seriously your last clean shirt?"

"Yeah. I guess I could borrow my little sister's dress but I don't think it'll go with my jacket."

Steve huffs a laugh. "You can take one of my shirts. I've got too many."

"No way," Tony says, rolling his eyes. "You already got me pizza."

Steve searches through three boxes before he comes up with an unopened pack of plain black t-shirts. He tosses one to Tony, who catches it and winces because he really can't afford to refuse it, and it was Steve's fault anyway for giving him that coke. "Turn around," he orders Steve, who turns around so Tony can pull on the t shirt. It's about three miles too big and Steve's muffling a laugh when he sees it.

"Shut up," Tony groans. His phone vibrates and he checks it—it's Ario. _On your way yet? Get dinner,  J is hungry._

Of course she's hungry. She's always hungry. "I have to go," Tony says, and jumps up. He breathes quietly for a second as his head spins then pulls on his jacket and picks up the pizza box. "Thanks for everything. I'll see you around."

"Yeah," says Steve, almost sadly, and watches him go.

**0**

"Can we get chicken and chips?" Jemina chirps when Tony comes home.

"I got pizza," he says. "And this is a one time thing. You won't grow if you have unhealthy food."

"Pepperoni?" Ario asks, wandering in and towelling his hair.

"Yeah," says Tony. He smiles at his brother, who isn't drunk.

"You alright?" Ario says, watching him closely.

"Not really," Tony admits, in undertone, and gives Jemina the pizza box. "Jemina, get some drinks."

"Okay," she says. Ario and Tony go into the bedroom. "New shirt?" asks Ario.

"Yeah. Some do-gooder got me the pizza and gave me the shirt after he saw me outside bleeding. S'why I was late."

"Bleeding?" Ario frowns. "What motherfucker did what this time?"

They both swear a lot when they get angry.

 Tony takes off his (Steve's) shirt wordlessly. There are the long thin cuts underneath, blooming bruises, and rope burns on his wrists. Ario's eyes go dark and angry and dangerous. "Don't," says Tony, a plea.

Ario goes off to get the bandages and disinfectant wipes. He cleans Tony up quietly, who leans back on the bed and breathes in hisses through his teeth, then wraps the bandages round in neat ties. They both know the drill by now.

"You ever change your mind about this," says Ario, relentless. "Say the word. We're gone."

But they've talked about this. There will only ever be one outcome. "You know I can't do that."

"Yeah," says Ario. He's got that black eye from the talk with Stane and his fists are clenched. "Yeah, I do."

**0**

 It's a week later and Tony walks in the rain, pads miserably through grey sheets. He's soaked in minutes. He pushes his hands into his pockets and keeps his head down, so the water runs through his hair and down his neck like cold weak fingers draping all over him.

He wonders where the sun's got to. Everything's colourless in that way it gets when the world turns dark and he's desperately missing the sun. He imagines himself padding along a beach with bare feet in golden sand and the sun is luxurious, how it sinks into his bones, how it lights up beneath his skin.

He opens his eyes and it's still raining.

A car passes slowly next to him. He ignores it, but it pauses in front of him and turns back, sliding up against the curb—a tinted window rolls down and it's Steve who gave him pizza looking concerned and dry. "Tony?" he asks. "Tony, is that you?"

 Tony kicks at the gravel and sighs, turning onto the car. "Yeah, so what? You stalking me?"

"No, I just saw you. You're soaked, Tony."

Tony looks around, eyebrows raised, faking surprise. "Jesus! Steve, it's raining! Oh my god, I just realised! And I'm wet, too. Thanks so much for telling me."

Steve rolls his eyes. "I know you're being sarcastic."

Tony frowns at him. "You never told me you were a genius."

"Tony," Steve says, with a laugh. "Don't go, I'll give you a lift."

It's half an hour to Jemina's friend's house but he needs to pick her up in ten minutes, and then get back in time to make dinner and put Jemina to bed. "If you insist," Tony scowls, and gets in.

There's three men in there. The driver, with cliché dark sunglasses and a suit— Tony wonders how rich Steve is, suddenly—and Steve, and another man with short brown hair and a shirt with the sleeves ripped off. Tony eyes him sideways and notes the danger in this last man, because the way he sits says he knows how to fight and the way his smile is set says he's all kinds of powerful and he's not going to hold back. "This is Clint," says Steve. "Clint, this is Tony. I told you about him last week."

"Yeah, I remember," says Clint, his voice low. Tony tries not to be too obvious about inching away. "Nice to meet you, Tony."

"Yeah," says Tony. "Can you drop me off round the corner?"

"Sure," says Steve. They go round the corner.

"It's at the end of this street," Tony says.

"Is that where you live?"

"No, I'm picking my sister up from her friend's house. I didn't know it was going to rain."

"Well—do you want a lift back?"

 Tony lets a long sigh out because Jemina doesn't have a coat, and he doesn't have money for the bus, and Jemina can't get ill, but—but he knows not to rely on charity. "No," he says, regretfully.

He gets out of the car and goes up the stairs to knock on the door. Steve and Clint and the suited driver wait in the car. The door opens to a tall women with ginger hair and white eyelids folded over her reddened eyes, her cheeks tents pitches over the bone, and she looks him up and down and says sharply, "Jemina, your brother's here to get you!"

There's running feet and Jemina and her friends appear giggling in the doorway, her friends white skinned with blonde hair, and Jemina dark and dusty and braided. "Say thank you," Tony reminds. "Thank you," Jemina says obediently, and takes Tony's hand as they go down the steps and the door closes. Before they start walking, Steve opens his window again and calls, "Are you sure you don't want a lift?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks for everything."

"Alright," says Steve, disappointed. "Bye."

"See you around," Tony says, turns and goes.

Jemina tugs on his sleeve—"What's for dinner?"

"Fuck," Tony scowls, because there's nothing back at the apartment and he hasn't got any money.

"Fuck," she mimics, with a giggle.

"No, Jemina," he sighs. "That was on accident. Don't swear."

"Fuck," she giggles again, and dances away before he can say anything—he gives up with a laugh and settles on stealing food from Walmart for dinner.

**0**

They get a couple cans of soup and some carrots up their shirts before the security guards catch on and start trailing them suspiciously. Tony pauses outside the exit like he's looking at the half priced cheesecakes then scoops up Jemina and legs it. They make it round the corner and into a wavering crowd before anyone catches up.

It's only ten minutes from here to their apartment, and Tony has to put Jemina on his shoulders because she's too tired to walk—at least it's not raining anymore though, and Tony's just damp from before. He slides Jemina onto his hip as he unlocks the door and then puts her at the table when they're in. He chops the carrots and heats up the soup and they eat from chipped ceramic bowls.

Ario comes in, drunk and dead tired—he's working three jobs, cage fights for Stane on the weekend and goes to college part time—and slops down the last of the tomato soup before going to bed. Jemina's yawning and fumbling with her spoon by then, so Tony waits until she's finished and makes her go to bed as well.

And then he's alone, lukewarm tomato soup and half a carrot stick for dinner, listening to rumbles of thunder from a storm that's started up again. He can imagine the thunder from where atoms in the sky are tearing open and slashing back together, white crackling lightening the only other sign of their existence, the rain dripping down tears from wretched people in that other strange universe.

He's way too tired for this.

He finishes his maths homework and soup then brings the dishes to the sink to wash up. He has to pull up his sleeves for that, and the fading rope burns are an uncomfortable reminder of the new client tomorrow night. He hates this life with a vengeance and can't even be bothered to do his nightly session of coding, instead sloping in front of the television and watching late night soaps and clenching his fists away from the glass so he doesn't lurch forwards and punch it. He wants desperately to get drunk or high and falls asleep to restless, blurry dreams that have him shuddering awake, sweating and trembling like he's on the run.


	2. Chapter 2

__  
I don't care if it hurts,  
I want to have control,  
I want a perfect body,  
I want a perfect soul.

He goes to watch Ario on Sunday.

The bar is filthy and crowded and stinks of alcohol, and everything is dim flickering lights and muscled sweating men, and greedy eyes and greedy hands and lazy disgust seeping into the cracked leather seats and concaved walls. The cage is high and foreboding, dangerous shadows from the silhouettes pacing and gulping inside and the wire curling and black. There's low booming pulses of music, but over that are voices and shouting and swearing, and over that are the pump of fists and the glee and the taste of blood. And if you could slow time down, achingly, seconds going past agonising frame by frame, then you could touch the salt of the sweat and the scarlet of blood and the wonder of how cheap human life is.

That's all of it, all of this place. The cheapness of life.

Tony sits at the edge, orders a beer. Shifts to avoid touching the sweaty eager men drinking on either side of him. Bites the insides of his cheeks.

Ario is standing over the far side of the room, bare chested, barefoot, bleeding from his upper lip, swaying just slightly as he downs the last of a whiskey. He grins, white and savage, and brushes back the sweat and curls of hair from his eyes, and stretches.

 Tony catches his eye. Ario's face softens and he loses some of the savageness, waves at Tony, looks for Jemina. Tony shrugs; he didn't bring her, but smiles good luck. Ario nods and searches for more alcohol, then gives it up and ducks into the cage.

**0**

The second fight, an hour later, is more brutal than the first. It's a heavily tattooed, wiry little man in the cage with Ario. His eyes are glinting with manic energy and he hops from foot to foot like if he stays still for too long he'll just collapse.

Tony downs the last of his third beer, and a pain starts up in his head.

Ario watches, and sways, and throws his head back and laughs. The other man darts forwards and throws a punch, his arm extending to show a gloriously explicit ink panther mid jump stretched out and detailed along the wiry muscle, and Tony doesn't tear his eyes away from it as Ario's laugh chokes off and his head snaps into it.

The other man has guns on his knuckles and bullets ricocheting in black-blue ink on his wrists, and they pound into Ario with fierce vengeance, and the crowd laughs and cheers and drinks themselves to death. Tony's head is suddenly full to bursting, and tense all over. He winces from the weight of it.

Ario comes back with a drunken roar and slams into the man, elbowing wildly; one gets lucky and splits the other's left eyebrow open. Half blind as the blood pours down his face, the tattooed man can't avoid the knee into his stomach and goes down.

The bar is quiet.

Then, in a sudden uproar, like a tide breaking free and sweeping through in devastation, everyone starts shouting; "Kill! Kill! Kill!" Ario looks up, sways for a blurry second, seems as if he doesn't know where he is, and then turns.

And starts kicking.

The tattooed man is stops shouting after the first few crunches and his body jerks with impact. There is a skull tattooed into the small of his back and it stretches and grins vividly, and Tony stares into those bone white eyes while the man bleeds and the crowd cheers and Ario kicks and kicks and kicks and doesn't stop.

**0**

When they get home, Jemina starts crying after seeing Ario stumble in bleeding and bruised and lopsided, and Ario starts swearing and Tony's headache gets worse. Ario is sick, retching all over the floor, and then his nose starts bleeding and they're out of bandages. Jemina won't let anyone touch her and doesn't take her hands away from her face and doesn't stop shaking and crying. No one's eaten since breakfast and there's nothing left to cook with. Ario is lost without alcohol and hazy with pain. Tony is tired and jittery and Jemina _won't stop crying._

Ario goes to sleep in the bedroom and Tony gets on his knees to scrub at all the little smears of blood on the floor, but they won't come out. Jemina is whimpering and he shouts at her to go to sleep, and then she starts sobbing louder than ever and he's guilty and irritable. He cleans up Ario's sick and washes his hands too hard in boiling water. Jemina falls asleep, but when he tries to move her she wakes up and starts crying again.

The sun rises and he doesn't even realise the night has disappeared. And he can't afford to miss school and Ario needs to go to work in three hours and they don't have money for a hospital but fuck Ario needs a hospital, and Jemina needs breakfast and to get the bus and to get changed, and—

**0**

"You're late," the teacher remarks when Tony stumbles in.

"Sorry," he says, tiredly, and goes to the back of the classroom.

Rhodey whispers to him, "You alright?"

"Yeah," he says, tries for a smile. "Was up _all night_ marathoning Mad Men. You know how it is."

"You know I know," Rhodey laughs at him, because Tony already knows his friend is obsessed with the show. "Well. Fair enough."

Tony drifts through the day, following people with the same classes as him so he doesn't have to concentrate on where to go, and ignoring the sometimes concerned looks from classmates and teachers alike; he nearly falls asleep three times and barely manages through a physics pop quiz, but physics is one of his particularly strong suits and he aces it anyway. At lunch, Pepper nudges him and stares at his eyes. "Are you okay? Did you not get much sleep?"

"No," Tony laughs. "I was up _all night_ with this insanely hot girl—you shoulda seen her tits—"

"Pig!" Pepper interrupts, punching him in the shoulder. He huffs and discreetly high fives Sammy under the table, who is smirking with appreciation.

"Movies after school?" James asks, slamming his tray down. Everyone agrees eagerly and don't even bother inviting Tony, because they already know he'll be busy.

He drifts into a nervous, longing nostalgia.

**0**

Tony had to pick up a job to pay for heating in the winter, so he works late afternoon shifts at a small cafe downtown. He puts Jemina on a table in the corner and makes her do her homework while he makes coffee, so it works out okay.

It's the next day and the sky is on the brink of raining and people in the after work rush are coming in for a coffee and cake. He's turned to spray cream onto a hot chocolate when someone asks, surprised, "Tony? Is that you?"

Tony turns and meets eyes with Steve. He quashes his surprise and says coolly, "Hey, Steve." He hands off the hot chocolate. "What would you like today?"

"Wait—you work here?"

"No, I'm serving coffee and wearing a uniform because it turns me on," Tony deadpans.

Steve is open mouthed—Clint appears from behind him, smirking. "He's messing with you. Two cappuccinos, kid."

"Five seventy five," Tony says. Clint pays.

Steve asks, "How are you, anyway?"

"Alright," Tony shrugs. "You?"

"We're good. Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, sure," Tony says awkwardly. He serves the cappuccinos, and turns to undo his apron because his shift is over. "I'll see you guys around."

"Wait," says Steve. "Has your shift finished?"

"Yeah."

"Would you like to have a coffee with us? My treat."

"I'm alright, thanks." Tony shrugs, in refusal.

"Please," Steve says.

Tony doesn't really have a reason to disagree and he owes Steve, anyway. "Fine," he concedes. "Let me get my sister."

"Great!" Steve cheers. Clint goes to find a table, and Steve orders Tony a coffee, and Tony gets Jemina, who's got her head down and is working on her maths. "Hey. You done?"

"Yeah," she says, looking up. "Are we going? Can we get dinner? I want chicken and chips."

Tony laughs, slightly relieved that she's as happy as usual even with the stress of the other night, and tells her, "I'll think about it. Right now, we're having coffee with my friends. You can stay here or come and sit with us."

"I'll come!" she cheers. "And then we can get chicken and chips!"

Tony rolls his eyes.

**0**

Tony sips his coffee. Jemina insists on trying it and spits it out immediately after, which Clint and Steve laugh at, and Tony huffs and throws her a tissue. It's strange, this sudden snap in time; he's suddenly happy and it's not something he's actually felt in a long time. He relaxes into it and enjoys the company.

Jemina looks at Steve intently, and then Clint, and Steve again; Tony follows the look and frowns, while Steve winces under the scrutiny. Suddenly she bursts into giggles and grins widely. "I know who you are!" she announces.

Tony frowns, but the men don't laugh like he expects. "What?" he asks.

Steve looks pained. "I don't... really..."

"I told you they'd figure it out," Clint remarks.

"What is happening?" Tony asks loudly.

"He's Captain America!" Jemina says, pointing at Steve. "And that's the Hulk in human form!"

Tony laughs. No one else does.

Clint says, "That's not true." He looks offended.

"It's a joke, calm down," Tony tells him, rolling his eyes.

"No, Steve _is_ Captain America. I'm just not the Hulk."

"Yeah, right." says Tony. "Steve. You're not exactly Steve _Rodgers,_ are you?"

Steve looks guilty.

"Holy shit," Tony says, and looks at Steve closely. "Captain America? You're Captain fucking America?"

"Captain fucking America!" Jemina repeats with a giggle.

"Fudging, I said fudging."

"Captain fucking America!"

Tony demands, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I told him to tell you," Clint puts in.

"I was enjoying the novelty of it," Steve says guiltily. "And I knew it wouldn't last long, anyway."

"I was in the same car as Captain America and the Hulk," Tony says, shaking his head in disbelief. "No way."

"Captain _fucking_ America!" Jemina puts in, nudging Tony.

"No swearing!" Tony says.

"You did," Jemina laughs, and Clint says, "I'm Hawkeye!"

Jemina frowns. "Hawkeye doesn't turn _fucking_ green."

"I didn't say _that_ ," Tony says through grit teeth.

"I'm not the Hulk, I'm Hawkeye," Clint growls, equally angry.

"Oh," says Jemina. "Fuck."

"Don't swear!" Tony says.

"You did," she sulks.

"You did," Steve frowns. "It's not a good example to set."

"Neither is lying about your identity," Tony shoots.

"He's got you," says Clint.

"Are you married to Black Widow?" Jemina asks Clint.

"No," Clint says. "But I have got a wife. And kids."

"Are they older than me?"

"No, about the same age."

"Black Widow is my favourite."

Clint frowns. "Who's the worst?"

"Captain America."

Steve looks offended.

"Captain _fucking_ America," Jemina corrects.

**0**

Tony can't believe that he met—three times—two of the _fucking_ Avengers and didn't recognise them, but forgets it in conversations over coffee. A few hours pass and he's still happy, and warm, and not hungry or thirsty or pain, and Jemina is giggling the whole time, and it's nice. Ario texts and he's bought back into reality. "Gotta go," he says, stepping away from the table. "C'mon, Jemina, we'll get chicken and chips."

"Yay!" she says, ecstatic.

"It was nice to see you," says Clint.

"Yeah," Tony agrees. "Bye, Steve."

"Wait," says Steve. "Can I have your number?"

"Sorry, Stevie, but I don't swing that way," Tony says, but Steve doesn't get it. He relents and says, "Yeah, alright. Give me your phone."

Steve fumbles with his phone and gives it to Tony, who keys in his number and saves it into the contacts.

"You're my second favourite," Jemina is confiding to Clint, who looks inordinately pleased. "And Thor and Captain America are the same levels of my not favourites."

"Come on, Jemina," Tony laughs, and drags her away.

**0**

Dinner, home; Jemina does his homework, Tony finishes learning Linux, Ario gets drunk and passes out on the floor. Tony covers him with a blanket and puts Jemina to bed and then steps into the corridor to smoke and stare at the bruises on his wrists.

He goes downstairs and breathes in the night air outside, then stubs out his cigarette and starts walking. He traces lines from streetlight to streetlight and shivers in the gaps on darkness. He watches his shadow, black and tall and shaky, and pretends his fingertips are skimming over surfaces that gape to mirror worlds. He feels like a little kid and he looks up to stare at stars and imagines wonder. Then he's desperate, and lonely, and shaking with loneliness, and is so desolate from the suddenness of it that he sits down and clutches himself and breathes.

His thoughts start wandering to dangerous places. He fists his hands. His nails dig into his palms so hard that trickles of blood start dribbling down his arms. He's flashing, a careful ghost, between two planes; the present and the past, the memories that thicken around him and convulse and then disappear, and reappear, and take his breath and take his mind and he's turning to stone, to nothing, to blood.

There is the street and then the room. And the stars in the sky and then the blood on the ground. And Ario, saying, "Oh, god," and he's shaking, and they're both crying—are they crying? Did they cry? No, no, they were still and cold, and it was only afterwards, after it all that they both snapped like rain splintering over the ground. And he remembers the stickiness of it, darkness of it, the light, the harsh light—the couches, all musky and warm, the pools of blood, the canvas light swinging above. The blue walls, the blue curtains. The stickiness of the red, of the blood. He's shivering, shaking, he can't speak, Ario says, "Oh, god, oh, god," and the man isn't breathing.

"Fuck," Tony says. He gets up abruptly and stops shaking. He fumbles for a cigarette but he left his lighter at home. He stares into the sky, wipes his bloody palms off on his jeans, bites the insides of his cheeks.

Goes home and doesn't sleep because the images are branded underneath his eyes.

**000**

The next day he gets into a fight at school. Brandon calls him a nigger in the locker rooms, as a joke, but Tony doesn't give a shit what it was meant as and throws a punch. He's relishing the crunch of his fists and the blood and the feeling of being alive. He likes the adrenaline, the rush of it, the anger hot and boiling, and that roar that blocks out everything else inside his ears.

A minute later and they're pulling him off Brandon, and his nose is streaming and Brandon is black and blue and choking angrily. Tony laughs in his face. Rhodey is the one hauling him to the nurse and hisses in his ear, "What the fuck did you do that for?"

"You heard," Tony frowns.

"You didn't have to beat him to a bloody pulp. What the hell is up with you?"

"Rough night," Tony dismisses. "I needed a punching bag and Brandon is a rascist fuck who deserves everything he gets."

"He made an insensitive joke, that's it," Rhodey sighs, but agrees to pick up Jemina and take her to the park if Tony gets held up for too long.

The nurse patches Tony up. She's looking at some old faded bruises on his neck and the ones ringing his wrists and tells him sternly that bruises like that don't come from fighting. Tony is angry and restless but doesn't say a word and doesn't look away from the plain scratched white of the wall until the headmaster sends for him.

He hopes to fuck he doesn't get expelled.

**000**

He doesn't. He's grounded for two weeks. They tell him that a parent needs to pick him up.

He leans outside in the rain and the secretary watches him behind the glass. It's been half an hour since the end of school. Most students have left. He flips his hood up and sighs and calls Ario.

"You got twenty seconds, I'm at work," Ario finally answers with, hushed and hurried.

"I got into a fight, man."

A pause. "Are you hurt?"

"Nah. A bit. I'm alright."

Tony shifts the tissues that are pressed against his nose. One falls down, fluttering and soaked in blood. He lets it skitter away.

"How bad is the other guy hurt?"

"Worse than me. Not enough for hospital."

"You haven't been expelled, right?"

Ario is scared at the prospect, understandably; the last time Tony got expelled, Obadiah sent a client who broke Tony's collarbone and arm and fractured three of his ribs.

"Nah. Two weeks suspension. Listen, Rhodey's got Jemina at the park, can you take her home after work?"

"Yeah. Alright, I gotta go. Talk later."

"I'm sorry," Tony says, quickly, before Ario hangs up; there's a pause, and then Tony ends the call.

"Fuck," he breathes. The secretary stares at him through the window. The rain comes down heavier.

He calls Steve. He's got his number after the Avenger texted him last night. The phone rings once, twice; "Hello?"

"Hey, Steve."

"Who is this?"

"Tony. Didn't you save me on your phone?"

"I don't know how," Steve admits. "Hi, Tony."

Tony pauses. "Are you busy?"

"What?"

"Are you, like, killing aliens?"

"Right now?"

"Yeah, right now."

"Am I killing aliens right now?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"No."

"What about monsters? Are you killing monsters?"

"No."

"What about just bad people in general?"

"No."

And you're not saving the world, either?"

"No."

"Cool. I didn't want to interrupt if you were doing any of that."

"You didn't. And thanks for the thoughtfulness."

Tony pauses. "That's alright. What are you doing?"

"Now?"

"No, tomorrow."

"I'm—"

"I was joking. Now. What are you doing now?"

"Uh, stretching. I did a workout."

"Cool. So you're not busy?"

"No."

"And you have a car?"

"No, but I have a motorbike."

"Well. Can you come me pick me up?"

"Really?" Steve sounds surprised. "Why?"

"Well, it's raining, and I need a lift from school."

"Sure, yeah. I can give you a lift."

Tony gives him directions and hangs up.

His nose starts bleeding again.

**000**

They're on Steve's motorbike; Tony has the spare helmet on, which is too big and bangs awkwardly every time they go round a corner; Steve steers into a massive driveway with about eight different cars parked at awkward angles and stops. They're in front of this huge mansion on the edge of town, but near to central New York and a fair distance away from Tony's apartment. Tony gapes up at it as he takes off his helmet. "You live here?"

"Yeah. Well. Not just me; all the Avengers, plus Laura, who's Clint's wife, and Clint's kids, and occasionally Jane and Darcy, and sometimes Coulson, who's our handler."

"Right," Tony says. "Fuck. I mean, wow. And this is where you were moving to when we first met?"

"Yeah," says Steve. "I mean, I was always based here, but I liked having my own place—then I just couldn't be bothered with the hassle and decided to move into the mansion completely."

"I feel you. Your apartment is literally a pile of crap compared to this place."

Steve laughs shortly. "Thanks. But, yeah. Do you want to come in?"

Tony hesitates. He forgot to tell Steve to drop him off at his apartment, which is why they're here; and it's raining, and he should wait for it to stop before walking home. Jemina's fine, she's with Ario, and neither will mind him taking a night off. And. Fuck it, these are the _Avengers._ His seven year old self would never forgive him passing up a chance to meet real life superheroes, despite the fact the Avengers didn't exist those eight years ago.

"Yeah," he concedes.

Steve leads the way in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments from last chapter, guys! Major confidence boost. I loved talking to you. Can't wait to hear what you think about this one, hopefully I'll update after this soon.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked, leave kudos and a comment-- next chapter in the works.


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